The Mirror Lied
by Anjelle
Summary: At a disheartening point in his life, Ace encounters something interesting. While trying to escape the rain, he and his brother happen upon a small antique shop. When looking in a mirror, what does he see reflected back? [AceLu/MarcoAce - It'll make sense later, I assure]
1. First Reflect

**So as an apology for not getting the crossover chapter done on time for ****_Divide_****'s anniversary, I'm posting this. You'll either love me or hate me. Please leave me whatever feedback you wish, tell me if you want to see more or not, and I'll continue working! I've got the first 4 chapters done but chapter 2 won't be posted until I finish chapter 6 (unless everyone hates it and doesn't want to see more XD). It's written differently than what I'm used to but the story picks up pace in a few chapters and all that nice stuff. You can follow my progress on my tumblr if you're interested. Otherwise, go and enjoy the story!**

**Oh, and this chapter is both the prologue AND first chapter. Keep that in mind.**

**Disclaimer: Honestly, is this even necessary at this point? After like 9 or 10 stories, I think you guys know that I don't own One Piece.**

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><p>He felt regret.<p>

Watching the grey sky disappear behind dark, drab clouds that threatened to release their accumulated water onto the streets, each wandering civilian falling prey to the cool liquid that was soon to come, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When his most prevalent sense was taken away, he could better feel the cool, musty breeze kiss his exposed skin, pushing the fabrics of his clothes against his person on his left and allowing it to sway, being pulled away on his right. There was moisture in the air—a drop in pressure signalling the oncoming storm.

What a rotten day.

Peering out onto the all but vacant streets, watching as pedestrians moved across the pavement hurriedly while gazing up at the blanketed world above, he took a few leisurely steps. Getting wet didn't really matter to him. If the clouds released and drenched his clothes he wouldn't care. Why should he? It was just a little water. Other than the depressing look of things, the weather didn't really bother him. In fact, it suited his mood—bleak, lifeless. He hadn't the energy to think differently.

Feet meeting cement, he walked along the cracked and busted sidewalk, turning onto a road that didn't lead home. He didn't feel like going back there just yet. The impending downpour would assure him his solitude during his aimless walk through town, or so he hoped. He needed time to himself—time to think.

Nobody was waiting for him, anyways.

While dragging his shoes against the rough surface, he registered the sounds around him: the screeching of tires as a talentless driver turned heavily onto another street; the panicked birds calling to each other and warning of the particularly nasty bit of weather that would soon befall them; the clatter of heels as a woman in business attire rushed over to her car, fumbling with her keys as she tried to beat nature.

He was tired of it all. Even when alone, he got no peace. All he wished was for a nice silence to befall him, to allow him a moment of self-loathing to face the regret the day brought on.

That grace never came. Instead he was met with a familiar set of footsteps creeping up behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was; the sound was familiar enough. Despite his earlier internal rant of longing for seclusion, the sound brought with it comfort.

A firm yet gentle touch pressed down against his shoulder. He gave in to the grip and slowed to a halt, feeling the appendage against his limb soften its hold as the one it belonged to came up beside him, revealing a nostalgic hairstyle and narrow, blue eyes.

"It's going to rain yoi," stated a rough, yet soft, voice.

He closed his eyes. "I know." He could feel the other's inquisitive stare but did nothing to explain himself. Detailing the day's events didn't sound very appealing and he knew the man wouldn't press him for answers, so leaving his wandering without reason was best. Bringing back memories of nigh an hour earlier wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

Opening his eyes again, he saw a look of understanding in that gaze—sympathy. Rather than treat him with fair, kind words of consolation, the taller man simply sighed, then looked on into the gray atmosphere. Vaguely he became aware of the light, cool drizzle that fell from the sky, leaving pinpricks of water on his exposed flesh. He didn't pay much attention until he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, herding him away.

"Come on, Ace. Let's find shelter before it starts pouring."

Absently he nodded, allowing the other to walk him in any direction he chose. He didn't care about getting wet but felt no need to go against the man. It didn't matter either way and, while his period of solitude ended, being beside someone so familiar was comfort enough. Perhaps instead of wallowing in regret he could wash it from his memories, if only temporarily.

With no awnings or ledges around to shield them from the steadily increasing rainfall, Ace was hurried over to the nearest open shop. Before entering, he peered up at the sign held above the entranceway that read _Rip-off Antiques_. He furrowed his brow at the clearly suspicious name, noting that it wasn't a place he was previously acquainted with, before allowing himself to press on.

The other opened the door and the chime of a bell filled Ace's ears as they passed through it. Immediately his nostrils were bombarded with the smell of wood and something that felt aged. He couldn't place it, though. Then, as he allowed his other senses to catch up with his nose, he analyzed the area. It was a typical antique shop with all of the expected trinkets and useless junk, from porcelain dolls to old books and everything in between.

To his left, his blond companion moved towards the front of the store. Ace's gaze softened as he watched his retreating back, a little grateful for his habit of showing up whenever he was having a bad day. Marco was always like that, though—ever since their first encounter so many years ago. He knew when he was needed and stood by whenever someone dear to him was in rough shape. It seemed only natural to him and it was a trait Ace greatly admired.

Shifting his focus slightly, he studied the shopkeeper who Marco began to talk to. She was a woman with short, ebony hair curling into her face and equally dark irises. She carried herself with confidence and a knowing grin, a cigarette resting gently between two fingers as she conversed with her potential customer. Now he knew who dared to put 'rip-off' in the name of a shop.

Violent droplets attacked the large windows of the store, signalling that they would be trapped in there for a decent while. He didn't mind; there was nowhere he had to be and he was starting to adjust to the smell, so he decided to take a look at the merchandise to pass the time and, with any luck, get his mind off the day's events.

The room itself, while narrow, was long, able to support a vast array of stock from knickknacks to full furnishings and all other manner of objects in between. It housed a yellow-gold glow, dying its stock in slight sepia, adding to its presumed age. The first thing to catch his attention was a carved, wooden table. It was definitely dated, likely from the late 19th century, with clawfoot legs and a redundant amount of etching along its sides, creating intricate designs that he found unnecessary. Atop the table rested multiple displays of fine china sets, some patterned with silver roses and others with gold foliage. There were all types of cups and plates and utensils needed for tea, all of which he was uninterested in. But with nowhere to go and little else to do, he shrugged off his disregard for the items and looked them over thoroughly, hoping to pass the time.

Vaguely he heard Marco chatting with the woman shopkeeper and noted from his words that it would be a while before they could move on. He didn't care. It just meant that he had to explore the goods more thoroughly in order to waste time.

Moving on, Ace stepped over to the wall. Hanging from it were multitudes of aged clocks of all sorts, ticking in unison as their hands moved about their differently designed faces. Different fonts were used and most had their numbers displayed as roman numerals in glaring black ink. Most were wooden and had tacky designs that made them unfit for purchase, in Ace's humble opinion. He just wasn't the type for old-fashioned items, he supposed.

Below the clocks were shelves that held and array of dolls, all looking back at him with wide, glass eyes. He then realized why he felt like he was being watched; their stares were haunting. Really, they were the worst of all of the items he saw thus far. They were dressed in fine silks and lace, standing there with vacant, lifeless expressions that reminded him of dolled-up corpses—a seriously disturbing sight. He couldn't bear to look for too long, his unease growing with every passing second, and pulled himself away.

They still stared—watched him—with hollow eyes.

Continuing further into the back of the shop, he passed many things that couldn't keep his attention for longer than thirty seconds. He was quick to dismiss them and move onto the next until he came to a section filled with mirrors in the far corner, all angled to look directly at the viewer. Ace had to admit that having so many reflections staring back at him was almost as bad as the dolls, but he was able to bypass it by looking at the various designs. He wasn't one for mirrors—didn't care much for his appearance and wasn't vain enough to stare at himself for more than three seconds—but some of them were rather interesting and diverse enough that he figured he could look for at least a little while. Some were oval, with meticulous engravings drawn into mental frames. Others were round with swirling patterns carved into wood. Yet others were rectangular with gold trim dancing along the edges.

Taking a look at each one by one, he came to the second full-length model. Its frame was a dark, polished wood that, while not plain, was not nearly as extravagant as most others. It had its design and an old look to it but didn't hold as much detail as the rest. After taking a good, hard look at the outer edge, he faced his reflection. Dark, gray eyes stared back at him, holding the same uninterested look he did. The same freckles that dotted his cheeks were also sprawled against the man in the mirror, unchanged. But something seemed off—something that made him rub his eyes, wondering if his exhaustion was catching up to him.

It wore different clothes.

Doing a double take after wiping the tiredness from his eyes, studying with renewed interest, Ace saw that his vision hadn't been wrong—or still was, as the case might have been. Instead of wearing the slightly damp school uniform he did, his reflection sported casual attire—shorts and a simple t-shirt. The backpack slung over his shoulder was different from the one the other held. Yet, despite that, they moved in unison, completely mimicking one another as their eyes widened and mouths gaped. What he was seeing wasn't real. It couldn't be.

Further differences made themselves known as he gawked, speechless, at the one reflected back at him. It appeared that the Ace in the mirror had shorter hair, though the difference was so slight it was easy to overlook. He wouldn't have noticed at all, had he not been specifically looking for differences. Beneath the sleeve of the t-shirt he wore was a tattoo inked to his arm, ASCE with the 'S' crossed out, in bold, black lettering that wasn't present on his own bicep. And, even though their expressions were identical, his reflection's seemed to hold more interest whereas his was full of confusion.

Slowly both reached out, absently nearing to brush their fingers against the mirror's surface.

"Oi, Ace," called a familiar, low voice.

Immediately he drew back, watching as his reflection did the same, and turned his wide-eyed stare to the blond who gestured him over. Giving the mirror one last glance, he shook his head and complied, heading back to the front of the store, hurriedly to Marco's side. His mind was still there, though, staring at the incorrect appearance of the one reflected back at him.

"Shakky got us an umbrella," the blond stated, holding the object between them. Ace glanced at the grinning shopkeeper as she leant over the counter, smothering the end of her cigarette in an ash tray. "You ready to go?"

Ace looked behind his companion to the downpour outside, then once more to the section of mirrors in the back corner, before facing him and nodding. "Y-yeah…"

It was clear by his raised eyebrow that Marco took note of the hesitation and stutter in his voice but said nothing of it as he thanked the black-haired woman and placed his hand on Ace's back, pushing gently towards the door as he opened it. Once more the light ring of the bell resounded through the room as they passed but Ace didn't pay it much mind. His thoughts were still on the strange encounter he had with… himself.

As Marco opened the black umbrella, he looked down at the younger, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Find anything interesting yoi?"

The youth swallowed. "…I'm not sure."

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><p>Ace relined on the plush surface of his living room couch, allowing himself to sink into the soft, soothing fabric, his torso wrapped in a towel he retrieved from the hall closet. The umbrella wasn't large enough to fit both men under it so, while his head remained dry, much of his shoulders were chilled with rain. He didn't care, though. If it wasn't for Marco telling him to warm up while he raided the kitchen to make some hot tea, he wouldn't have noticed at all. His thoughts were still clouded with the image of something other than his reflection staring back at him in that strange little shop.<p>

At some point he found Marco sitting on the couch across from his, two steaming cups resting on the table between them. He said nothing and instead continued staring blankly at the wall, paying the one in front of him little mind.

"Something wrong?" Marco asked, leaning forward to pick up his cup, holding it loosely by its handle.

Ace moved his eyes to watch the steam dance in front of Marco's face, distracting him from the words spoken. They shared a glace. It wasn't long until he broke eye contact and turned to face the table and the lone cup of tea still resting at its edge. Sighing, he ran an exasperated hand through his black waves, massaging his scalp as his fingers ran across his skin. "It's nothing. I'm just… tired." How else could he explain what he saw back at the shop?

It was clear from the look in his eyes that Marco didn't believe him for a second and suddenly he was reminded of his earlier depression—his regret. He'd almost forgotten about it. Perhaps it was because of the sight that met him at the mirror. Maybe he really _was_ in need of rest. Either way, he was grateful for the topic to have fled his mind, if only for a while. It gave him time to breathe.

Marco closed his eyes and leaned into the back of the couch, looking a little tired himself. "You don't want to tell me yoi?" Silence was the only answer the blond needed. "Alright, but I'm here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know."

He was always there for him. When he was brought to that house for the first time, terrified of what would happen next, Marco was the first to reach out to him. He made him feel _safe. _That blond who had fifteen years on him was the first person he considered family—his brother. Oyaji followed soon after, but with how often he was away on business, he was left in Marco's care as a child. They were close.

Satisfied with that reply, the blond finished the last of his tea and set about cleaning the area, moving his cup to the sink. Quickly he returned to the living room, giving the younger a soft smile as he ruffled his hair, massaging him in much the same way a brother or parent would, before moving to the entranceway to slip on his shoes. Ace followed him out of the room to see him out. He watched as the slightly tanned skin of the blond's hand wrapped around the handle of the umbrella, pulling it from its resting place against the wall.

Once more he smiled at his little brother. "Call me if you need anything."

Ace nodded. As Marco turned around and grasped the knob, the one behind him swallowed. "Thanks… for everything." He hadn't shown gratitude for all the things Marco did for him in a long time. It became almost second nature to him, so he often forgot.

Glancing over his shoulder with a smile, Marco headed out the door.

Once more Ace was alone. He dragged himself back into the living room and slumped back down on his seat, staring up at the ceiling absently. He had too much time to think.

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><p>It'd been a week. A whole week had been spent sulking about his most recent mistake and wondering about just what he saw at <em>Rip-off Antiques.<em>

Walking home from school just as he did that day, his mind once more started to wander. That time he paid no mind to the careless drivers or chirping birds. He didn't give much thought to the sky, either, because it was back to its usual, blue self, not one cloud in sight. Instead he was focused on trying to mentally unlock the truth of what happened back then. It'd been bothering him for far too long and he needed answers. Was it simply a result of his upset and unfocused mind or was it something more?

He was almost thankful for the strange encounter. While curiosity was getting the best of him, it was still nice to keep preoccupied with. He wasn't as distraught as he was that first day. In fact he felt relieved of his burden, if only sometimes.

Feet shuffling across the sidewalk, he came to a halt, looking up to face the tacky little antique shop he visited only a week before. After fighting with himself for so long, he made his decision, pushing the door open to hear that familiar metallic chime.

Shakky was standing there just as before, a knowing smile gracing her lips as she stood tall, removing a cigarette from her mouth and pressing it between her two fingers. She leant over the counter, head resting on her hand as she looked over her new customer.

"Welcome back."

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><p><strong>I'm sure ever one of your theories about what happens next will be correct. Predictable plot is predictable. But hey, it'll get more interesting! Probably. And to my <strong>**_Divide_**** readers: again, so sorry T_T I tried, I really did, it just didn't happen. The days are too short! ...Forgive me?**

**Well, I'll see you all next update, whenever that is. Remember to share your thoughts! :D**

**Adieu~**

**Anjelle**


	2. Cracked Image

****I started a ****collab with Kitsune Foxfire/Bedlamwolf over on our new joint account, BedlamAnjelle****. (I know, so original right?) It's called****_Immortality is What We Leave Behind_**** and is a fantasy AU**** with no main pairings, if you're interested. I'm having A LOT of fun with that story and it's been a ridiculously amazing experience, so I would really appreciate it if you could go take a look. Only if you want to, of course, but I'd love to hear your opinions on it and Kitsune is an AMAZING writer and partner so I think it'll be worth your time.****

**Not gonna lie, this chapter is boring. Boring, but necessary. But still boring. I wrote it like... 5 months ago? 6? So the quality and tone are bleh. Let's hope you don't hate it TOO much. It picks up at the end of the 3rd chapter though, I promise! And especially the 4th chapter! That's where it got fun for me to write!**

**So, hope you enjoy despite that~~**

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><p>"I had a feeling you'd be back," Shakky stated as she puffed out a breath of smoke, watching the teen that entered her shop as he glanced around the room.<p>

Ace stepped further in, his eyes immediately locating the section of mirrors in the far corner before giving the woman his full attention. She had a glint of amusement in her eyes that made him feel even more uneasy. "Oh yeah?" he questioned, steadily approaching her.

She looked him over, settling her gaze on his before motioning to the back of the shop with her cigarette. "You're here for _that_—am I right?"

The youth followed her gesture to the mirror he saw one week before and swallowed nervously before nodding. "What can you tell me about it?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." The woman put out her cigarette before moving from behind the cash register, walking towards the object he was interested in. He followed close behind and the way Shakky glanced back told him that she knew he was wary of it. Her amusement only grew. "It's been here for little over a year."

"No one wanted it?"

"No one noticed," she corrected.

They stopped in front of the object and he mauled that thought over. How could someone not notice something so bizarre? He left his ponderings when he was met with an incorrect reflection, not unlike before. Again it stared back at him, an eerie similarity between the two, differences so subtle they went all but unnoticed.

He swallowed.

"Do you want it?"

"What?" He spun his head around to face the smoking shopkeeper, her lax form to his left.

"I'll let you have it for free, if you want."

Ace narrowed his eyes, an incredulous look on his face. There was no way a place called _Rip-off Antiques_ would just give away its merchandise. That devious look Shakky sent him didn't go unnoticed, either. She was up to something.

Turning back to the mirror, he exhaled. What he found strange was that the shopkeeper's reflection was identical to reality even when his was not. She carried her cigarette in much the same way, wearing the same dark clothes. Why was that? "What's the catch?"

Her grin widened. "Your accusation shocks me." The woman's expression told otherwise. "I'm just interested in seeing how this plays out. So, what'll it be?"

The youth remained silent, brow furrowed, eyes locked on his reflection. Did he really want something as eerie as that in his house?

Closing his eyes, he turned away. "Keep it," he said, beginning his trek to the front of the shop. He didn't want to deal with whatever messed up events that thing would bring forth. Swallowing his curiosity, he left.

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><p>He didn't want the mirror. So, why was that same reflection there, staring back at him?<p>

Distrust clear on his face, Ace eyed the new object found in his room before noticing a letter attached to it. As cautious as he was to approach the—what, cursed?—mirror, he got close enough to snatch the paper away and read it.

_'Consider it a gift.'_

The freckled youth groaned, running a tired hand through his hair as he slumped onto his bed. How the hell did she get it inside the house, anyways? Well, that was the least of his worries, now that he had that _thing_ watching his every move. Maybe he could toss it in the trash—be free of whatever mysteries it held and move on with his life.

…But he _did_ like mysteries…

Dropping to the mattress, Ace opted to stare at his blank, white ceiling. All of his uncertainty was starting to build up; he could feel the start of a headache coming along. He didn't have time for bullshit like that! The guy had enough to worry about _without_ some creepy not-mirror thing messing with him, thank you.

But…

And then he heard laughing—_his_ laughing.

Ace's breath hitched as the sound cut through the silence, mouth pulled into a taut line. He had to be hearing things. It wasn't real.

…Could he really keep saying that?

After a mental count to three he sat back up and looked at his reflection, eyes widening to see it wasn't in the same position as himself. His counterpart was seated cross-legged on the floor right in front of the mirror's surface, looking up at him with playful eyes. That wasn't happening, right? It had to be a dream, or… Who was he kidding? He couldn't keep lying to himself. Though, being mentally ill was still a possibility.

Swallowing, he finally noticed the room seated on the other side of the mirror. It was nothing liking his own, contrasting the theme of pale beige and white with a muted orange. The furniture was darker, more disorganized, and definitely unlike his own.

So it wasn't just the person who was different?

"This can't be real," he mumbled, half-dazed as his mind continued to assess the situation.

"Why not?"

Ace blinked, his focus returning to the doppelganger staring back at him with a boyish grin. Did his reflection just reply?

"It was kind of weird at first," his counterpart continued, "but when I saw you walk away my curiosity got the best of me." Well, he seemed to be taking it well, whatever 'it' was.

_Wait._ "Walk away?"

"From the mirror," the other added.

So, when he closed his eyes and left the store the other day, his reflection stayed?

"I found it funny so I bought it."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want it," Ace stated with a sigh. He was talking to his reflection—a failure of a reflection, considering they were different. And how the hell could it talk? At some point he'd resigned himself to it. Either he was dreaming or life just got _really_ unnecessarily complex.

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><p>School was a pain in the ass. That was why he skipped so frequently—or that was what he told everyone, anyways. Sometimes it was necessary to find a place to escape to, to be free of the burdensome social hierarchy, bastard teachers hounding him for work he wasn't inclined to do and pretentious brats that studied there. For Ace, that place was Thatch's bar. Sure it wasn't the most visually appealing place in the world—the smell of alcohol and cigarettes permeating the air was another negative—but he got free food, free drinks, and a chance to relax. Having Thatch there was always a plus, too.<p>

"So what's wrong today? Get dumped?" the redhead teased, receiving a glare from his young sibling.

"Hardly," Ace snorted, downing the drink in front of him. "Do I need an excuse to visit my favourite big brother?"

Thatch raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously. "I thought Marco was your favourite."

"Marco's too serious for his own good."

He laughed. "You have a point. That guy doesn't know the meaning of the word 'fun.'"

Ace snickered as he watched his brother dry glasses, understanding perfectly what the man was saying. That was what he liked about Thatch; it didn't matter what happened or whatever wrongs you committed, he would always be there to keep you company after a bad day. Although a known trickster and flirt, he was a great guy who always knew what to say to get your mind off of the bad things in life. Even then, when Ace was openly skipped class, he said nothing and continued on, allowing him a few free drinks and a plateful of food to ease his nerves.

Oyaji—or Edward Newgate, as he was more commonly known—was a big name in the corporate world. He owned several successful companies ranging in purpose from weapon manufacturing to electronics and blah, blah, blah—the point was that he was damn rich. Oyaji was a big deal. Despite the amount of media coverage he was bombarded with, the man had a part of his life that remained unknown to the world: his family. None of them were related by blood excluding Marco himself who was the heir to his fortune, at least on the surface. He was the only one the media knew about, though information was so scarce on him that he was freed from the harassment of reporters throughout the majority of his life.

Years after Marco's birth and the death of his wife, Newgate adopted Thatch and, even later still, Ace. There were others, too—people who hadn't been adopted yet remained as close to them as family. They were part of Oyaji's _other_ secret, but that wasn't important.

"I don't mind if you ditch class like this," Thatch stated, "but remember to pass, alright? Marco will have my head if you don't graduate this year."

Ace chuckled and nodded, stuffing his face with his usual, insurmountable hunger beckoning him for sustenance. The best part of Thatch's bar was that it doubled as a restaurant during daylight hours, and _damn_ could that man cook!

He'd chosen to escape reality that day, as usual. This time, though, he was running from a certain unexplainable object. After determining, alongside the other Ace, that they each had whole lives—worlds—on their sides of the mirror, he needed to take his mind off the matter, or maybe just needed time to think.

They hadn't talked long, only giving brief synopses of their current lives—the schools they went to, people they knew—but it was clear they lived under very different circumstances. Aside from not even knowing who Edward Newgate was, he hadn't the slightest idea who Marco and Thatch were, either. How could he ever live without them? Was he adopted by someone else, or had he lived his life on the streets? He couldn't imagine what it would have been like if Oyaji hadn't found him that day, took him in. Just the thought tied his stomach into knots.

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><p><em> Dark skies littered the world above in the dead of night. Streetlights lined the road, half broken and unlit. It was raining, as it always did during that season, and cars skidded away. Ace was feeling smaller and weaker than ever as he dragged himself across the pavement. His feet felt like lead but he couldn't stop. His little brother was missing and nothing else mattered.<em>

_His body didn't care about his conviction, though. It finally gave up, crumpling to a heap of limbs beneath one of the few working streetlights. Willing it to move did nothing. Clothes drenched with rainwater weighed him down, making it harder to pick himself up. But he had to. When he found that boy, he was going to kill him for making him worry._

_Tires screeched to a halt on the road beside him, followed by the opening of a door. Ace forced himself to turn his head, to face the long, black limo parked five feet away. Vision blurred, all he could make out was the towering figure of a man in a suit, his giant form intimidating as he approached. Without a word, the child felt himself be picked up and held close by a pair of strong, warm arms. All he could do was lay there, wondering who that man was and where he was taking him. But, despite his fear, he felt his lids close, giving way to exhaustion._

_Still, he wondered, would his little brother be okay if something happened to him?_

* * *

><p>Ace's eyes narrowed and he halted his meal, contemplating his conversation with his double.<p>

_"Hm? Who's that in the picture?"_

It worried him, what he said.

_"Nope, never seen him before. He a friend of yours or something?"_

Out of all of the people he hadn't known or recognized, how could Luffy be among them?

How could he not know his own brother?

* * *

><p>Ace leaned back on the bench as he awaited the bus. He had mixed feelings about that day. The conversation with his other self was pretty amusing—though the guy was a little too moody for his liking—but only hours later his car decided to quit on him. He wasn't too pleased to find the damn thing unresponsive when he went to head to work. Well, could be worse, right? At least he had change for the bus. And, hey, taking it easy for once was pretty refreshing. Normally he'd be rushing from place to place to get things done. It gave him time to ponder the weird things his doppelganger told him—like who that Edward Newgate guy was. He'd heard the name before, or rather it sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. There were a few others he mentioned, too: Marco, Thatch, Lu—<p>

He pulled himself from his thoughts as someone sat beside him, the bench creaking beneath their shared weight. Curiously he looked, met with matted black hair. The boy was small and scrawny and, for just an instance, he thought he was sitting next to a girl. Upon closer inspection, though, he could kick himself for thinking that.

Before he'd finished his analysis of the boy the stranger turned to him, revealing a scarred cheek and big eyes. He looked a little familiar, but from where…?

The picture.

Grin splitting his face, the recently identified teen looked him over. "Hey!"

Ace blinked. _What an energetic greeting. _"Hey, kid. What's up?"

"Does this bus go to Newgate Academy?"

"Newgate—" His eyes widened. So _that's_ where he heard that name! That was that fancy, rich school, right? _But wait…_ "Aren't classes cancelled today?"

"They are?" The teen asked, his eyes staring inquisitively into Ace's. "Oops, shishishi."

Ace couldn't help but grin. So that was Luffy, huh? What an idiot.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry you had to sit through that *bows* This is also the shortest of all the chapters. Like I said, I just wanted to get it out of the way and make way for the plot XD But hopefully you'll enjoy the next few! Chapter 4's over 2ce as long ;)<strong>

**To my lovelies~**

**ItWorksWonder: Lol well I'm glad you like it but I don't think this is any place to be asking me to update Divide XD If you wanna pester my about anything, I'd be happy to be bothered on my tumblr :P**

**Frostheart D. Blaize: Carried on as requested.**

**Sully-van: Why? MarcoAce is fabulous XD But don't worry, the pairings in this fic are as equal as I can possibly make them, so you'll get your AceLu. Hope you enjoyed~**

**Leite Destiny: Yes, it's VERY predictable. It's like as cliche and uncreative as Within :,D But I'm having fun with the chapters where I'm at in writing them, so hopefully you guys won't mind the cliches too much. To be honest I've never actually bothered to read Through the Looking Gladd ^^; So I can't say whether or not it's going to be like that... As for Alice in Wonderland, it's not REALLY like that... or it is depending on perspectives... I don't know XD There are like 3 reasons the title is The Mirror Lied... you'll figure them out as you read XD **

**teengens: Lol you think Luffy died? I'm not THAT predictable XD I can't keep up, but I try :,D **

**94Insane: Not all of the characters are going to be in every chapter :P It just wouldn't be possible. But here he is and he'll be in the next chapter too!**

**aslMeno: Here's the next chapter~**

**Skitzykat101: Hopefully it isn't too disappointing :,D**

**TheBlackSpirit: I write lots of bad stuff XD The bad stuff just gets less attention.**

**LuckyDream: Here's more~ Though updates will be slow on this story because it's newer and has less demand. Just because I wouldn't be able to keep up XD**

**Kitsune Foxfire: The chapter 4 teaser? That was fun XD**

**bloodytears87: Glad you like~**

**samiya88: I've been debating about adding Rayleigh. I know he's going to be mentioned, but I'm not sure if I'm going to have him actually show up or not XD I'm glad I'm forgiven :)**

**Justa Little Puppy: Glad someone mentioned that. You might want to pay attention to the things he saw in the shop ;) Lol Ace didn't tell Marco because he thought he was going crazy XD**

**ssspooky: Here's the next one~**

**AnnaBella07: Of course I'll continue to write my stuff. Even if some of it's as shitty as this :,D**

**Thanks so much for the reviews! Feel free to complain about the chapter as much as you want. In the meantime, I shall nap. It will be fantastic.**

**Adieu~**


	3. First Shard

**So right now I'm on hiatus because of a research design I have due and finals coming up, but since I have up to chapter 4 of this story written I figured I'd post. It's another bleh chapter (4 is where I started having fun) and I'm not sure how many people actually read/like this, but at least it keeps me from being inactive. Enjoy?**

**Also, people were having trouble telling that it was a different Ace at the end of the last chapter. I'd like to warn you that it DOES get confusing like that. To tell the difference, just be careful to try to notice the differences between how their perspectives are written. One Ace is a lot more carefree, one's very serious and in a bad mood more often than not, one's in school and the other has a job ect. You'll pick it up once you get to know them better, but until then it'll be kinda confusing :,D**

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><p>Leaning back in his seat, Ace glanced to the side to observe his newfound friend. The boy was staring out the window of the bus, watching the scenery as it rolled by, large eyes taking in everything they could. After finding that he went to the bus stop for nothing, Luffy decided to get on the bus anyway, just for the hell of it. So, they kept each other company.<p>

"Woah," the teen noised, grinning all-the-while, "Look! That building's _huge_!"

Ace laughed. The boy was fascinated by absolutely everything. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nu-uh," he answered with a shake of his head, turning to face his new acquaintance. "Dad's got some business here, so we moved."

"You from the country?" he questioned.

Luffy's mouth gaped and Ace swore he saw stars in his eyes. "How'd you know?"

He shrugged, grinning. "Just a hunch," he replied. It was pretty easy to guess; he acted just like a tourist. "I'm Ace, by the way—Gol D. Ace."

Again, the teen grinned, holding out a hand. "Monkey D. Luffy," he introduced.

Ace's eyes widened. Well, he never expected the person his counterpart knew to carry such a weighted last name, especially with how empty-headed he came across as. The Monkey name had been big for generations, ever since Garp attained the title of national hero in the war. His son, Dragon, was a savvy businessman whose name was rapidly spreading across the country. Ace never heard anything about Dragon having a kid, though.

…Looking at the boy then, he could safely guess why.

Ace smiled, giving his hand a firm shake. "Nice to meet ya, Luffy."

Luffy laughed before turning back to the window, gushing over some new observation.

"You act like you've never taken a bus before."

"I haven't," he answered simply.

Well, that wasn't too surprising, Ace supposed. If he lived out in the country, buses probably weren't the most common sight to see—at least, not compared to as big a city as that. Plus, coming from such a wealthy family, he probably wasn't in need of public transportation.

…So why was he currently on a bus?

Well, whatever.

The ride continued just like that, with the pair partaking in light conversation until finally Ace's workplace came into view. He leaned against Luffy, reaching for the cord above his head. A ding sounded through the bus and it slowed to a halt. Ace rose from his seat, heading for the door.

"You're leaving?" Luffy asked with a pout.

Ace offered an apologetic smile. "This is my stop. Sorry, kid." Giving the heir a mock salute he slipped off the bus, taking large strides towards his building. He checked his watch, thankful that he was still ten minutes early, before hearing distinctive laughter from behind. Spinning around, he spotted a grin that was quickly becoming a familiar sight. "You followed me?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.

"I just got off the bus," Luffy stated, sticking out his tongue.

"My shift's about to start, you know." Nevertheless, Ace stopped and waited for the boy to pace up to him. The kid was amusing, alright. He noted the slightly sad features of the other, pondering what to do. Luffy was probably clinging to him because he didn't know anyone in that city. He found someone he got along with and didn't want their acquaintanceship to crumble after that first meeting. He supposed he could reassure him, if only a little. "Got a phone?"

Luffy titled his head before digging into his pocket, retrieving a cellphone. Ace messed with it for a moment before handing it back.

"That's my number. Call me whenever, alright?"

That grin returned, followed by that iconic laugh. "Thanks, Ace!"

Ace turned on his heel, waving goodbye before slipping through the front door to his building. Immediately his phone vibrated and he knew who it was without looking at the name. Answering the call, he spat out, "Not right now, idiot!"

"_Shishishi!"_

He smiled, wondering just what he got himself into. But… he could see why his other self liked the kid.

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><p>Lunch arrived and Ace couldn't wait to sink his teeth into some hot meat. A new restaurant opened up down the street and he was invited to check it out with a few colleagues. It was nice to get away from the office. The work he did was… monotonous. He had a very boring, bland desk job to attend during the day. Everything was so white and dead looking—kind of like his counterpart's bedroom—that he sometimes worried he'd lose his senses.<p>

Lunch break was his saving grace.

Shanks arrived at the door to his office with his usual smirk, knocking to catch his attention.

Ace looked up from his computer with a smile. "That time already?" he asked. It was more of a sarcastic question; he felt like he'd been there for seventy two hours, when in reality it'd only been five.

He saved his files and hurried out of his seat, following closely behind the redhead as they trekked to the elevator. Being on the twelfth floor, they had a long way down to go. The building was run by a large corporation with hundreds of employees. It needed to be so grandiose to contain them all.

As metal doors slid open, Ace's eyes caught on a tall blond standing in the elevator, waiting. He'd never seen him before, so he probably didn't work there. Sure he didn't know all of the employees personally, but he knew a vast majority of their faces, at least. And the man was going down, meaning he was previously on the top floor—the one that housed the company president. It seemed he had friends in high places—not that Ace didn't, being the president's son.

The pair stepped into the elevator and watched as the doors slid shut, feeling the upward pull as they descended floors. He couldn't help but continually glance at the stranger beside him, curiosity overrunning his senses. It was rare for someone he'd never met to visit his father.

In all honesty, the blond looked bored. His eyes were half lidded, tired looking, with a lazy glint to them. One hand in the pocket of his black suit and the other holding firm to a briefcase, Ace couldn't help but wonder what he was there for.

Then their eyes met.

Immediately Ace turned away, cursing internally for being caught staring, before looking back to him and forcing a smile. "Hi," he greeted awkwardly. _Might as well go with it._ Introducing himself was the proper thing to do, wasn't it? "I'm—"

"Roger's boy," the stranger stated casually, turning away, "Ace, right?"

He swallowed, sudden nervousness washing over him. "Uh, yeah…"

"Marco Newgate," the man supplied, eyes still on the elevator door.

Ace's eyes widened. Was he the same Marco his counterpart mentioned? He had the same last name as that other guy who was mentioned, so—

Wait. Newgate—he knew that name from somewhere else. It wasn't just the name of a school. _Newgate, Newgate… Wasn't that…_

And then he remembered. Wasn't the sole proprietor of their biggest competition a man by the name of Edward Newgate?

He internally gasped, mind drawing blank. How the _hell _did mirror-Ace know these people?

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><p>Finally Ace's favourite time of the day came—going home. It wasn't that he hated his job, per se, just… strongly disliked it. Yeah, that sounded about right. It was so dull that he sometimes thought it was slowly killing him with boredom. And <em>no,<em> he wasn't exaggerating.

If he had a choice, he'd have a more interesting job—something that wasn't as bland as being an executive assistant—something like… being the captain of an infamous pirate crew! Alright, alright, that was ridiculous, but at least it proved a point. He needed some excitement in his life.

…Well, there _was_ that mirror in his room.

Passing through the building's front entrance, he welcomed the cool breeze that raced across his skin. The worst part about working in an office was that you couldn't _feel_ like you could outside. He missed the refreshing outdoor air.

Something caught in the corner of his eye—a familiar head of messy, black hair. Turning to focus on it, he grinned. Luffy was there, resting against the wall of the building, snoring away. He strutted over, staring down at the teen, wondering what he should do to rouse him. Before his thoughts could wander too far, the boy's eyes opened all on their own and his face split into a smile.

"Hey," he greeted tiredly.

"Hey," Ace replied, crouching down in front of him. He hadn't been there since morning, had he? "What's up?"

Luffy yawned, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly he remembered something. "Ace, you should have seen it! There was this guy with these swords and he had _green hair_! It was _so_ _cool_!"

He laughed. So apparently he hadn't been there all day. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, shishishi!"

"So I take it you looked around?"

A furious nod was his reply. "I like it here. It's fun!"

Ace reached out and ruffled his hair, "Good."

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><p>Finally he was home. He threw off his shoes at the front door and went straight for the kitchen, smiling when he was met with an all too familiar blond chopping vegetables at the counter.<p>

"Welcome home," she said, never pausing in her task. "How was it?"

"Boring," he replied with a shrug, placing a few grocery bags on the table. "My car broke down, so that kind of sucked." Then again, he met a pretty amusing kid because of that. The day didn't turn out to be too bad, after all.

After exchanging a brief few words with his mother, he dragged himself down the hall to his bedroom, flopping down on his mattress with a groan. He felt like running—just going outside and taking off to get some exercise. At the same time he just wanted to find a way to amuse himself at home, not wanting to bother leaving. But how?

Flipping onto his side, his eyes narrowed on the mirror.

Once more Ace hopped to his feet, nearing the strange object he'd acquired. His reflection was nowhere to be found, leading his frown to deepen. So he couldn't bother the guy to amuse himself. Well that sucked. Still, he was curious about it and stepped closer, looking it over. He wanted to find some explanation for… whatever it was doing. How did it connect worlds like that? Was it really connecting worlds or was it all in his head?

No. He wasn't crazy, damn it.

After studying the back and sides of the floor-length mirror he sighed, returning to face his vacant reflection with a pout. That only took up ten minutes and he was still pretty bored. God, he never thought he'd see the day where he had nothing to do on a Friday night. He used to go out all the time in high school but… things changed. It seemed his job took up more and more of his time. He didn't even _like _his job. Roger wanted him to inherit the company, though, and Ace didn't really have any other aspirations.

Damn his luck.

Wanting to get a better look at his doppelganger's room, Ace inched closer. But he slipped, falling face-first into the reflection. He squeezed his eyes shut, instinctively bracing himself for an impact that never came. Instead he fell to the ground, opening his eyes once he realized he'd stopped falling. Curiously he blinked, feeling the pale carpet between his fingers.

The floors in his room were wooden.

He shot to his feet, hand over his mouth as he took in the dull colours of the room, the bland furniture and lone desk in the corner. No. Nononono this wasn't happening. Spinning around, he spotted the mirror, reflecting an orange room—_his _room. He pressed his hand against the false reflection, pushing it, trying to get back through. It didn't work. He bit his lip. When he said he wanted something to do, he meant _in his own world._

_Fuck._

Muffled voices echoed from the hall. He saw that the door was half open and quickly hid out of view. Why was he hiding? He didn't know. It just felt like the appropriate thing to do at the time. Listening quietly, he made out one of the voices to be his own—er, _that world's_ Ace. The other he couldn't place, but it sounded familiar.

"I'll go tomorrow, alright?" Other-Ace stated in annoyance, voice getting louder with every step.

"You can't keep skipping yoi."

"I know that!" he growled back. The rattle of the doorknob being grabbed made Ace's heart race. "It's fine if I pass, right? Then I'll pass. Now go home."

The door opened and other-Ace's eyes widened, roving over his double. Both froze in place, dumbstruck as they stared at each other.

"What is it yoi?"

Other-Ace snapped back to reality, slamming the door on the man's face before he had a chance to see that same sight. "…It's nothing, Marco. Just… just go home. I'm not feeling well."

There was silence before a resigned sigh passed through the door. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything."

As he watched the exchange, Ace couldn't help but wonder…

What would happen if he couldn't go back?

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><p><strong>So there ya go. Dunno how many people are still reading this, but hopefully it isn't TOO boring for whoever's still around XD<strong>

**To my lovelies~**

**Kitsune Foxfire: Yeah, the scene switches require a lot of attention. Who says he'll run into anyone from Ace #2's world? :P**

**THATCH: Thatch isn't even a main character here ^^; And I've only killed him off in like... 1 of my fics. So I don't understand why you're asking... And if I were planning to kill him off I wouldn't change my mind because, well, I don't like letting readers have too much influence over the plot, you know?**

**Frostheart D. Blaize: That was Ace's description of school, not mine. School's important. Learning is important. That was just how Ace, specifically the Ace that's still in school, feels. **

**teengens: The last scene was "mirror" Ace, who was also the focus of this chapter, if that helps. It can be confusion, but the way they "think" and act is different. Hopefully it'll become more obvious as time goes on.**

** : As stated, the last scene was from the other Ace's perspective, which is also the one we focused on this chapter.**

**Leite Destiny: We shall see about Shakky :P Well not exactly. Mirror!Ace bought the mirror, but Shakky sent the mirror to Ace's house specifically. Well at least someone wasn't confused by the perspective shift ^^; Yep, neither are canon universes. Both AUs. As for why it's called "The Mirror Lied" well... you'll have to wait and find out :P IF I keep posting it... still not sure. Lol it's fine, you don't have to read it XD Nah, I like your reviews.**

**Well. Shortest author note I've written all year, but there we go :P I might post chapter 4 sometime this week too, if I can't find time to work on anything else. Then we won't get chapter 5 for a loooooong time. Because this story is kinda... well, my others have higher demand XD I'll go work on the stupid research design now =3=**

**Adieu~**


	4. Second Shard

**So before you read the chapter, I feel I should say something: I may not be continuing this story. Now, now, wait a minute, I have my reasons. I just... I wrote this chapter months ago. MONTHS. And I started 5 but... I'm just not too eager to write more. I have it all plotted, I have the characterizations done, everything like that, but I just haven't had the motivation to work on it. It doesn't have that big of a following, so I'm not going to force my way through the rough patches like I did with Skip and Reverse because I won't be letting many people down. I just... I've kinda been in a slump lately... with a lot of things. But I think my writing's been hit the hardest. Maybe I'll pick this story up again in the future if I ever feel inspired, maybe this low point will go away after exams, but I wanted to warn you in case it doesn't. Despite this, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was my favourite to write.**

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><p>"Before you say anything," Ace began, raising placating hands, "this isn't my fault."<p>

His double growled his frustration low in his throat, only a fraction as angry as he would have been if he hadn't managed to get rid of the person who had been waiting in the hall, Ace suspected. "Why the _hell _are you here?"

"More like _how_ am I here," he corrected. The other just started at him expectantly, waiting for his explanation. But what could he say? He didn't know. "The mirror did this… thing… and I fell in."

Other-Ace groaned, stepping nearer. "Then fall out—I have enough problems to deal with as it is."

His double moved to push him and he stepped back. "Don't!" he commanded, gesturing for him to stop. Grey eyes stared back at him, waiting. "We shouldn't touch. We might destroy the fabric of reality."

Other-Ace gave him an incredulous look before ignoring his words and reaching for his wrist. He closed his eyes, waiting for all hell to break lose, instead met with his counterpart's firm grasp as he pulled him towards the mirror.

"Idiot," he chided with a roll of his eyes.

"You really shouldn't call yourself an idiot," Ace countered. "It doesn't look good."

Suddenly he found himself at the mirror, staring into his brightly-coloured room that, in his humble opinion, was a lot more vibrant and inviting than his counterpart's.

"Go," the other commanded.

"I can't."

"What?"

"I tried; I can't go back."

"Why the hell not?" the double questioned, growling his irritation once more.

"How the fuck should I know?" he countered, finally being released by his counterpart.

They stared. The two of them had a long, stretching moment where neither spoke or moved, sweat beading down their necks as they took each other in. Seeing his own face staring back at him felt unreal. They were almost perfectly identical and, had Ace not known better, he would have thought he was looking in a mirror.

Suddenly he reached out, pinching the skin of his double's cheek. Other-Ace pulled back, shooting him a glare as he rubbed the sore spot on his face. It was weird being on the receiving end of that look.

"The hell?"

"You're real," Ace stated dumbly, blinking as that realization finally came to the forefront of his mind. He could touch him. He _wasn't _crazy!

…Of course he wasn't. _Ahem._

His counterpart narrowed his eyes. "You're the one in _my_ bedroom; I should be saying that."

Oh, right. He was, wasn't he? Grinning, he flopped down on the other's bed. "Guess it's mine now, too."

"No it's—"

"It's fine, isn't it?" he questioned, folding his arms behind his head as he looked to the colourless ceiling. "Not like I can go back." Internally he was freaking out but he wouldn't let it show on his face. Judging by how different their worlds were, he suspected—no, _knew_—that the two of them were very different people. He was certain. From what he'd seen, his counterpart couldn't handle stress as well. He didn't like working under pressure nor did he seem confident in his ability to keep calm when problems arose. Knowing that, how could Ace openly admit his worries?

He'd be fine dealing with it on his own—always was.

"Ace?"

Both boys lifted their heads, turning towards the sound, eyes coming to rest on the mirror. He recognised it right away and leapt up, quickly walking over to the reflective surface and pressing his palm against it. His counterpart came up beside him but he paid no mind, eyes focused as a woman with dark eyes and long, golden waves appeared in the reflection.

"Who's that?" Other-Ace asked with a raised eyebrow, but he didn't hear it.

She looked around the room, arms folded as confusion settled on her soft features. "Where did that boy go now…?"

He swallowed, banging against the screen—the one thing that connected both worlds. She didn't seem to notice. "Oi, Mom," he tried again, banging harder this time. Still nothing—not even a nod in his direction. Couldn't she hear him? "…Shit."

"O-oi… What did you just call her?"

His attention was once more grabbed by his double, brows furrowed as he gave the man an incredulous look. He seemed… scared, just a bit. Nervous. Disbelieving. But he didn't voice his observations and returned to gazing through the mirror, watching as his mother picked his bag off the hardwood floor and moved it to the corner of the room, then began straightening his sheets. "What's wrong with calling her 'Mom'?"

For a second everything was quiet as they watched the blonde move about the room, tidying up small things here and there. Then his other swallowed, voice shaky and uncertain. "…That's your mother?"

Again Ace furrowed his brows, turning to the double. "Of course it—" When his eyes came to rest on that eerily identical face, his words stuck in his throat. The shock he saw, the disbelief—he knew instantly what it meant. He couldn't say anything, slowly looking back at the blonde, watching as she finished and moved out of view, closing the bedroom door behind her. Her steps faded as she walked further down the hall, leaving them in silence.

When the tension became too thick, he pulled his mouth taut. Even though he knew the answer, he just had to ask. "You… you don't know her?"

Other-Ace turned away, solemnly shaking his head. "She… died. Giving birth to me," he added as a crushing afterthought.

"So Roger raised you alone?" He couldn't imagine growing up without her. She took care of him more than his father, was there for a bigger part of his life. When Dad had to work, Mom would stay with him. When he was a kid she would keep the monsters away. Without her…

This time that look turned hateful and he snapped his eyes to look into Ace's. "He was never there—dead, just like her."

Ace's eyes widened. He was an orphan? "Then—"

"Oyaji took me in when I was eight."

"Oyaji?" he repeated.

"Edward Newgate," his double elaborated as he dropped onto the bed, hands on his knees as he stared at nothing in particular, reflecting on his life. "He adopted me—gave me a home, a family."

"Wait, wait, wait," he started, holding up his hands as he put that together in his head. "_Newgate_ adopted you? That Whitebeard CEO or whatever? You're Ace _Newgate_?"

The double narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, so?"

"But he's the bad guy! He's Dad's business rival! We have, like, a love-hate relationship with the guy! Why _him _of all people?"

Other-Ace, for the most part, ignored his ranting, face remaining as hard as ever. "Then I take it you call yourself Gol Ace?"

"Gol _D._ Ace," he corrected. "Of course I do—took Dad's name. He wants me to inherit the company or some shit," he said with a shrug.

His double stared contemplatively at the floor for a moment before heaving himself up and heading to the door. He gestured for Ace to follow, which he complied with immediately, and both headed into the hall.

The house was very different from his own, covered in dull whites and beiges and greys. The loud, vibrant colours he was so accustomed to were absent, leaving a cold, dead feel. He didn't like it. The layout was different, too—unfamiliar. He was sure that if his counterpart wasn't leading the way he would certainly get confused, though the size of the home was actually quite small—another difference. In fact, it looked like an average sized place with three bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and bathroom. It was pretty homely, actually—impossible to get lost in, but he would probably find a way.

His host—though it was weird to call him that since they were technically the same person—headed into the kitchen, turning to look at him and tap on the surface of the marble counter that almost resembled a bar. Ace complied, walking up behind him to sit on a black stool, eyeing the room as his counterpart went about raiding the fridge. Still those dull beiges dominated the decor, off-whites accompanying them just as they had in every goddamn room before. If he had to stay there too long he was going to go mad. It looked like a funeral home. Or something like that. He didn't know; he just didn't like it.

Other-Ace pulled his head from the fridge, two cold beers in tow.

Raising a refusing hand, he shook his head. "I'm not much of a drinker." He wasn't, either—not since _that incident._ That day would forever remain lost in time if he had anything to say about it.

The double looked a bit surprised but shrugged it off and returned one of the bottles. "Tea?"

"Coffee?" he suggested.

"Narcolepsy?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"No nap," the other stated offhandedly as he went about preparing the drink.

"And no meds." When Other-Ace looked at him with suspicion he defensively added "What? I forgot!"

Rolling his eyes, he went about continuing to ready the coffee, heating the water before opening his bottle and gulping down a good quarter. Ace suspected he needed the buzz—might get him to loosen up a bit. But shouldn't _he_ be the one freaking out? He was the one who couldn't get back. Despite that, his internal conflict subsided somewhat and he was really starting to get into his role of 'creepy observer in the life of himself' or whatever the hell he was. Regardless of what it was called, he was basically an intruder in his other self's life. While he felt bad for that, to some miniscule degree, it was kind of exciting. How often did people get to meet alternate versions of themselves? And how many of them got to go to said alternate's world?

He grinned. Guess it would depend on how many defective mirrors there were in the world.

"So, what should I call you?" he asked. His double stared at him blankly. "If I'm Ace and you're Ace then you need a nickname."

"Then you need one too. You're not going to be left to keep our name."

"Call me Gol," he answered with an immediate grin, still waiting on his coffee.

"Then I'll be Portgas," the other replied less enthusiastically as he sipped at his drink. "Newgate makes me feel like the old man."

Ace—Gol?—snorted. "We're so original."

"I failed art," Portgas pointed.

"That… actually makes a lot of sense."

Silence prevailed as the coffee finished and his double prepared it, instinctively knowing just how he liked it. Well, at least that was one commonality held between them. Soon enough a steaming mug was placed before him and he inhaled, relishing in the familiar aroma he'd come to know over the years. At least that was the same.

"So," he started, waiting for his drink to cool, "who was here?"

"Hm?"

"That guy you were talking to," Ace elaborated, "who was he?"

Portgas remained expressionless for a moment, staring absently into the living room as he thought. Eventually he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Marco," he answered, "my big brother."

Ace just about spat out his coffee, his mind flashing back to that iconic blond hairsty—er, ah… _interesting_ individual he had the awkward encounter with at lunch. How could he forget such a… unique… fashion sense? Well, it certainly made him stand out.

"He's your _brother_?" Ace questioned, already knowing the answer. Really, he should have realized sooner; the man introduced himself as Marco Newgate right from the start. It just felt weird, thinking he had a sibling. "That's just… I _just_ met the guy a few hours ago and you're saying he's your brother. I… I don't even know anymore."

Portgas downed the last of his drink, giving him an eerie look. "You don't have any brothers?"

"None—only child. Mom had problems after I was born and couldn't have kids. There was—" He stopped himself, realizing what he'd been about to say.

"Was what?"

"…Nothing."

It was easy to tell from the look in Portgas's eyes that he didn't want to drop the subject but he didn't press, placing his empty bottle on the counter before moving towards the hall. "I'm gonna take another look at the mirror." With that he was gone, leaving Ace to sip his coffee in solitude.

Admittedly he _wanted_ to do a bit of snooping—get a look at how his doppelganger lived—but the better half of his judgement persuaded him to stay put. Something told him that he was the less violent of the two and poking around uninvited would end badly. If he knew himself at all, he knew that he wouldn't care if the person who pissed him off had the same face; they'd still end up with a broken nose.

Maybe he should take up something to help him relax. Yoga. Yoga sounded good. Too bad he was impatie—

The sound of the front door opening had his eyes doubling in size and his head spinning around faster than he thought it could. At first he couldn't see the intruder, his vision obscured by the wall separating the entranceway from the living room. Still he was panicked; whoever it was, they would certainly be able to tell he wasn't the usual 'Ace Newgate' that existed in their world. He just knew it. Because his luck was shit.

Time seemed to tick by slower and slower as his heart sped up, watching a head of soaked blond hair poke from around the corner. He watched, keeping as straight a face as he could manage, as the rest of the body appeared. Shoulders drenched—was it raining?—and brows furrowed the slightest bit, he didn't look too pleased.

But he certainly looked something else.

Ace found his eyes wandering, instinctually sizing him up. He was pleased with what he—_no! No! Bad thoughts! That's Portgas's brother!_

Still…

He peaked, gaze wandering from his irritated expression as he stepped in and shook off the excess water in his clothes to his chest, muscles just barely showing through the top sticking to his skin. Then his eyes went lower…

Again he internally slapped himself, shouting reprimands in his head as the blond removed his shoes. Despite the lashing he gave himself, he couldn't help but think the man certainly looked better now than he did with that stiff old suit on.

Oh, but they weren't exactly the same person, were they?

The man Ace remembered as Marco stepped away from the doorway and into the living room, glancing periodically at his own feet to be sure he wasn't dripping rainwater everywhere. Suddenly realization hit the freckled youth—realization that the blond was coming towards him and he _wasn't supposed to be there._

His mental freak-out returned with full force and he stared with his best poker-face as the blond stopped in front of him, closing the gap between them eerily fast.

Marco bent down, excusing personal boundaries to reach past him, their faces close enough to feel one another's breath. Ace became dazed for a moment before the elder pulled back, his fingers holding a key ring he'd grabbed off the countertop.

"Forgot this yoi," he stated as he straightened, completely unresponsive to how close they were just a few moments ago. Was that because he thought they were brothers—that they got close like that usually as family?

Ace swallowed. "Y-yeah." Now, he didn't consider himself an openly sexual person, nor was he easily impressed, but that guy… he was interesting. He stole Ace's attention as soon as he walked in and he would likely have it until he left. Why? Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was his hair. Yeah, definitely the hair.

Probably.

Maybe.

What was he thinking about?

Marco gave him a slightly perplexed look, though it was hard to notice with the bored look his face naturally held. If the youth had a chance to see him more in the future he made a mental note to try to surprise the man—because that was an expression he doubted the blond wore too often. Maybe stuck in that world he would get a chance. That didn't sound too bad, actually.

"…What is it?" he asked, noticing 'big brother' staring.

"You're different yoi."

He bit the inside of his lip. Was it that obvious? "O-oh yeah? How?"

Marco's eyes narrowed and he was sure he was caught. In a few moments he would be called out on his identity. Wait, why would they want to keep it a secret, anyway? Why hide the mirror-accident-thing from that guy?

…Because he was nervous as hell about what the aforementioned guy would think when he realized they were complete strangers, that's why.

The blond looked like he was about to say something—to expose his identity like one would in a mystery novel—but he rethought it and shook his head. "It's nothing; forget it."

As Marco went to turn, Ace looked past him to see his doppelganger standing frozen in the hall, eyes wide and mouth agape as he put the scenario together in his head. He knew he had to keep the blond from seeing Portgas and instinctively latched onto his wrist, causing him to double back and meet his eyes with an inquisitive stare. _Shit! Now what? _Admittedly he hadn't thought that far ahead. Okay, he hadn't thought _at all_, but that wasn't important. What _was_ important was keeping the man he was holding onto from turning around and seeing that he now had two of the same brother.

"What is it yoi?"

_Shit shit shit shit—_

"Sorry," he blurted without thought, trying to recall what Marco and his double were talking about earlier. He remembered them sounding upset… Was it a fight? Seeing that Portgas was slowly creeping backwards down the hall, he decided that would have to do. "About earlier… I was just in a bad mood. I didn't mean to blow up at you like that, i-it's just… you know how I am." Was that convincing? He hoped that was convincing because if his other self didn't have the same anger problems he did then he was in some serious shit.

The blond's mouth curved into a subtle smile and immediately Ace deflated, stress flooding from his body like water at a broken dam. He'd never felt so relieved. But it didn't last. Oh no, no—nothing could be so simple. To put more weight behind the appreciative look in his eyes, the conveyance of forgiveness on his lips, Marco reached out and smoothly, gently, tousled his hair. Ace could feel the familial bonds in the warmth of his hand, the affecting behind the action, but he wasn't able to interpret it the way it was intended. He wasn't able to see that stranger as a brother. How _did_ he view it? Well…

It certainly made him blush.

"It's alright," he replied, voice smooth and silky yet retaining that dull tone it seemed so accustomed to. "It's Luffy, isn't it? Something happened yoi."

Luffy? What did he have to do with anything? It wasn't like Ace could ask—that would definitely be suspicious. The only option he really had was to go with it. So, assuming the mention of whatever incident Marco was talking about would make Portgas upset, he averted his gaze, allowing a somber, broken look to cross his face as he gave a small, regretful nod. Why regretful? Well throughout his life, Ace had learned that when someone fought with him it was usually his fault, not the other person's. He was a _little_ antagonistic at times and he suspected his counterpart was even more so; he didn't seem like the most agreeable of fellows.

Apparently his act was convincing; when he glanced up, he saw that Marco was giving him a sympathetic look behind his indifferent mask. The hand was still resting lightly atop his head, running through his strands in a touch intended for comfort. He closed his eyes briefly, taking in the warmth of the other as he carded through his hair. It was strange and more than a little awkward—he'd only met the man earlier in the day—but he couldn't say he disliked it. Actually, it was kind of… nice. It reminded him of when he was little. Embarrassingly enough, as a child he would run to his mother for comfort whenever there was even the smallest of storms and she would run her hand along his scalp every time, holding him in her arms. Portgas didn't have her, but… he still had someone for those rainy nights, didn't he? He wasn't alone.

"I'm here if you need me, alright?"

Those few spoken words broke whatever spell Marco's hand cast on him and he opened his eyes, looking up at the blond from his stool. The sincerity in his eyes was adorable—definitely excellent big brother material. So Ace smiled, looking at him softly, appreciatively, happy to know that his other self had someone who seemed to care so deeply for him. "Yeah, I know."

Marco's stare lingered awkwardly and Ace blinked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "Something wrong?" he questioned.

"No, it's…" The blond's voice faded and his eyes shifted, looking to the empty bottle on the counter. He sighed. "Didn't you have enough to drink with Thatch yoi?"

"Who's Thatch?" As soon as the words left his lips he slammed a hand over his mouth, eyes huge as he realized what he just said. He just asked who someone he was _supposed to know _was.

Marco's eyes widened.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit—_

He leapt from his seat, laughing nervously as he stood right in front of the blond. "It's a joke," he stated in a feeble attempt to save his and his counterpart's asses, playfully grabbing at Marco's shoulder. Maybe he could convince the man that he was tipsy or some shit. "I'm fine—washing it down with coffee, see?"

Marco didn't seem so convinced but he easily turned around with Ace's gentle guidance. The youth was quick to guide him to the door—be rid of any more potential slip-ups.

"Actually I'm starting to feel an episode coming along—forgot to take my meds. I'll be fine on my own, don't worry. Just go home and get some rest, okay? You look like you need it."

Before either of them knew it, they were at the door, Marco's moist shoes covering his feet. Ace moved to the hall closet, correctly assuming a few umbrellas were stored there, and handed one to his supposed brother, smiling. "Wouldn't be good for either of us if you caught a cold," he stated, nudging him to the mat in front of the entrance.

Marco looked at the umbrella now in his hands, confusion quickly being replaced by uncertainty and his calculating eyes returning to the youth's, seeing something that Ace likely didn't want him to see. He was just fucking up all over the place now, wasn't he? He had to bail. He had to bail _fast_.

Opening the door for his 'dear brother' with that same soft smile—forced at that point because stress was getting to him—he prepared himself to be rid of the pleasant-turned-nightmare encounter. Goddamn it, he wished they met under different circumstances!

"Are you sure you're alright? You seem…" Marco's concerned eyes looking him over were enough to hint at what he meant. _Different. Unlike yourself. _He was suspicious, yes, but more than that he looked worried. And Ace hated knowing that, hated how Portgas's brother was leaving with troubled thoughts of his sibling.

"I'm fine, really," he assured, being sure to brighten his smile as he stared directly into those blue eyes and lied. He was actually panicking—stressing over how _fucked up_ his situation was—but it wasn't like he could say that. He couldn't actually tell the blond what he was _really _feeling. For some reason he'd always been a good liar. It came in handy at times like those.

Marco looked like he wanted to say more but Ace wouldn't give him the chance; quickly he leaned forward and placed a small, chaste kiss on the lower portion of his cheek—because his natural height couldn't reach much higher—feeling the man's stubble prickle against his lips. It was over in an instant, no passion involved, and he pulled away with that same grin constant on his face. Seeing the elder's stunned look told that, yet again, he'd made the wrong move. That was how he greeted and saw everyone in his family off, even Roger. It was a little custom he'd grown up with and, well… he didn't have siblings so he didn't know if it was acceptable. He _thought _it was but, judging by that reaction, he couldn't have been further from the mark.

The blond remained speechless, blinking away his shock before finally clearing his head and coming back to reality. "What—"

"Anyways, I've got to go lay down—I'm really starting to feel it," Ace interrupted, being sure to not give his 'brother' a chance to question him further. He couldn't let him know how much he was freaking out. "Stop by again, okay? It was… it was nice talking like this."

Marco's face attained its usual neutral expression once more but he could tell by the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat that he was still very uncomfortable. "Ace…"

He wouldn't let him finish, waving enthusiastically. "Bye!"

And with that he slammed the door on the blond's face.

_Hard._

Pressing his back to the door he sighed, his heart about to beat out of his chest. _My god that was hard. Never again. Just… never again._

Well.

He probably screwed up Portgas's relationship with Marco for the rest of eternity.

That went well.

Ace wasn't allowed rest, though, as a loud _bang_ met his ears. His head snapped up, towards the hall, and he sighed. Had Portgas fallen asleep? He supposed he could help him into bed or something. After all, he'd be rooming there if he couldn't find a way back to his world, right? It was the least he could do for, well, screwing up his double's entire life, more or less.

Heading down the hall and into his counterpart's bedroom, he stared blankly at each of the four walls from the doorway. No one was there. He was about to check the other rooms when he heard a loud noise.

"Fucking hell!" Portgas cussed, groaning in frustration.

Ace's head turned to the mirror and, but of course, Portgas was shown through the reflection. At that point he wasn't even surprised—just sort of accepted it with a resigned sigh. He walked up to it and tapped thrice, not shocked in the least when he was unable to pass through the portal... thingy. "Of course. Of _fucking _course."

"For fuck's sake, can't we get a break?" Portgas continued for him, groaning as he stood from where he'd fallen. "Can't get through?"

"Nope, you?"

"That is a negative, Gol."

"Beautiful," Ace droned sarcastically. "And I had a date with Luffy, too. Well shit."

His double's ears perked up at that and the irritation vanished from his face like magic. Suddenly Ace had his full attention, his grumblings of breaking the mirror fizzling out as the gears turned in his head. "…A date? With Lu?"

"Yeah," Ace answered, heaving a sigh as he flopped back on what was now _his _nice, comfy bed. "I met him this morning—just moved here, apparently. He wanted me to show him around town."

He could tell what that look on Portgas's face was—that he was _excited_ to hear that. He watched as the other freckled youth licked his lips, a nervous yet hopeful look on his face. "…I could go in your place."

"No shit," he replied. "I'd kill you if you left the poor kid to wait for you—er, _me_—all by his lonesome. I don't even care that you're me; you'd be dead."

Portgas nodded firmly, nervously, and it wasn't hard to see that Marco's hypothesis about something happening with Luffy was all too accurate. By the looks of it, his double was feeling the guilt. So it was his fault, just like Ace suspect. It wasn't surprising but good to know all the same. They'd have to take over for each other… right? At least until they could find a way to fix this mess.

…Or until the mirror had another mood swing and let them through again.

"Anything I should know?" Portgas asked, snapping him from his internal rant.

"You're Luffy's first friend since he moved, so don't blow it."

"I won't."

"You better not," he replied with narrowed eyes, the threat clear in his tone.

"Anything else?"

…He should probably say something, huh? "I _may_ have completely shattered your familial bonds with Marco just now."

"…WHAT?"

Ace gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought it was okay to kiss siblings…"

At that point Portgas just couldn't react anymore, dropping onto the edge of the bed in the reflection, rubbing soothing circles into his temple. "…Is that everything?"

His grin widened and his doppelganger looked at him with worry, bracing himself for whatever heartache came next.

"Your brother has a nice ass."

* * *

><p><strong>So whether I ever do write more or not, I hope this was an enjoyable chapter. I'll see you all in my other fics once exams are over.<strong>

**To my lovelies~**

**Frostheart D. Blaize: It wasn't much of a cliffhanger, you all knew what was going to happen ^^;**

**siqwithaQ: Hopefully the nicknames helped XD The plot's pretty predictable, to be honest :P Well, now you know why he had to meed those two XD**

**Shirani-Chan: I'm happy to know a few people liked it in the end :) Sorry, I just don't really have the motivation to continue it right now. Maybe that'll change, but right now... not likely. Thanks so much for the review, it means a lot!**

**teengens: What...? Three? Three of what? Ace? There are only two of him... o.o**

**cirmos98: Well, I posed the last chapter I wrote, at least ^^; **

**Kitsune Foxfire: I've done it too XD Well, at least 3 wasn't as horrible as 2 :,D**

**ssspooky: Well, this is about as far as it went, so now you know :,D You're welcome~**

**And that's it. So, at least for now, this is goodbye. I hope to see you all when I do the mass update after exams!**

**Adieu~**


	5. Second Reflect

**It has been... over a year. Wow But the story is back now! And while this isn't the most eventful of chapters, I wanted to show a bit of Portgas's POV before getting into things... for reasons. It'll be made clear later. I was actually intending to get this chapter up a little while ago, but I was in the hospital for a bit and then recovering, and the meds I was on had me falling asleep all of the time so sadly that put writing on hold. But I'm back now, and this story is as well. Hopefully you guys enjoy!**

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><p>Night fell fast. The orange hues of sunset, once lighting the bright colours of the room like a bed of fire, quickly dissolved with the rise of the moon, and Portgas found himself lying back on his bed, cushioning his head with his arms as he reflected over everything that had happened-and everything he'd been told. Gol, the one who should have been there in his place, had went on about his life, trying to prepare him for whatever came next. They decided to do their best to try to properly fit into one another's lives, if only to keep from creating a headache later on, people asking what happened to get them there and how. Amidst a sea of unimportant facts and needless rambling he'd learned that his double was lodging with his parents, sleeping in his childhood bedroom as he looked for a place to live. He'd just moved back from another city, apparently-though when prompted Gol gave no details behind just why he came back, dismissing it as unimportant with a wave of his hand. Despite that the bastard didn't seem to mind going on and on about boring trips he'd taken when he was younger, like the first time he went fishing. Ace never knew he could be so… talkative.<p>

Gol worked at his father's company. It was good that it was the start of the weekend because Ace honestly had no idea what his job was all about-he still hadn't finished high school, damn it-and this would give them a little time to try to find a way to go back to their own worlds before he was forced to make an attempt.

Apparently his double met Luffy that morning at the bus stop, and Marco later in the day around lunch, so he had nothing to tell him about them… which was nerve-wracking because, more than anything, he really wanted to know how different this Luffy was from his own. Considering how different he and Gol were he knew the possibility existed that this kid wouldn't be the same, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see that… And Marco? He couldn't imagine that asshole any other way. Marco was a mother hen; he was the most responsible brother, and the most annoyingly attentive. Admittedly, though, he was curious…

"He looks better without the suit, if you ask me." The grin Gol had worn when he said that made Ace want to punch him in the face. Twice. Hard. Hearing things like that said by someone who looked just like him was fucking disturbing; he would never talk about Marco like that. But that jackass found getting him riled up by making teasing comments like that amusing, and so he heard them periodically over the past half hour. It only made him scared for just how much of his life Gol would ruin if they didn't return to their original worlds soon.

"So this is that Thatch guy?" Gol questioned, eyebrow raised as he held a framed picture of Ace and an all too familiar grinning redhead up to the mirror. He remembered when it was taken at his nineteenth birthday party; he'd gotten drunk off his ass since he was officially legal—not that he hadn't drank before—and his asshole of a brother took over a hundred pictures of him acting like an idiot. That was the only one he kept because at that point he'd passed out. Izo took the picture while Thatch carried him to the car on his back, grinning teasingly over his shoulder at the sleeping face of his young brother. "Marc mentioned him. Kinda fucked up and asked who he was. Oops."

He scrunched up his face and rolled his eyes. Oh god, he'd already started using nicknames… "Yeah, that's him."

Nobody could ever hate Thatch. Even if he was a bastard at times, he was always there when he was needed. Marco was, too, of course. But sometimes Marco acted more like a parent than a sibling. He had to keep the two of them in line whenever the old man was away, which was quite frequently. And even though there was an age gap between the second and third sons, the redhead's childishness dissolved any semblance of it.

Spinning the photo back around to face him, Gol's grin stretched before he put it down and got up to snoop around some more. "Seems like a fun guy. Wouldn't mind meeting him."

"You might get the chance," he snickered. In fact, despite visiting the bar just a few hours ago, Ace wanted to see him…

The sound of the door creaking open brought their conversation to a halt, grey eyes snapping towards the sound, and as the slab of wood swung away he paled at the sight of a tall blond woman, familiar only from the glimpse he'd caught earlier that night. His body went still and a mix of awkwardness, anxiety and excitement filled him as he looked her over, and never had he been so conflicted about whether or not he wanted to flee an encounter in his life.

Rouge's eyes caught on him and she smiled. "Dinner's been ready for a while, you know. Aren't you going to eat?"

Ace was silent a moment, speechless-because as much as this was his mother she was still a stranger, and he didn't want to say something odd or mess things up or-

"Nah," he finally managed, his voice breaking under the weight of his stress. "I… ate before coming home. 'M not really hungry."

She gave him a suspicious look, not entirely satisfied with that answer, but eventually shrugged it off and smiled. "Alright, then. Roger won't be home until late, so don't wait up for him." Before he had a chance to process her words she closed the distance between them, bending down to kiss the crown of his head and causing his whole body to go rigid. "I've got an early morning so I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight, Ace."

There was a long, silence-filled pause that stretched across the room as he tried to recompose, and eventually he managed to spit out a short "G'night, Mom."

Her smile softened as she rose to her full height, and the moment the door closed behind her Ace fell back onto the bed, running a stressed hand through his hair as he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.

Fuck.

He'd always wondered what she was like, her looks and her smile, the tone of her voice… at least as a kid. His thoughts would keep him up at night with imaginings of just who his mother was, what she hated, her favourite foods… But as he aged he stopped thinking about it, stopped pondering, figuring it was senseless to try to envision it. He didn't think it would bother him like it once did, steeled away from the emotions that brought those thoughts forth, but there he was, crumbling with the sound of her voice.

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. Fucking pathetic.

Gol had watched in silence, and after a stretch he tentatively asked, "You okay there, Buddy?"

"Yeah," he muttered a sigh, "I'm fine. It's just… strange."

"Strange?" his double echoed, plopping down on the ground before the mirror with his legs crossed, arms resting atop his knees.

He sighed. "It's nothing; forget it." With that he rose from his seat, starting for the door. "I'm… gonna go for a walk, alright? Clear my head 'n shit."

Ace never waited for a response as he left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him as he shuffled down the foreign hall, past the kitchen and out the front door.

Only an hour, he told himself.

* * *

><p>Out of all of the insane, bizarre things he'd bore witness to since learning of the existence of that world, it all paled in comparison to seeing the outside walls of his safe-haven painted a deep red, neon lights flashing above the door to draw in the attention of every passerby. Flashy, obnoxious, he knew he had to have the wrong place, especially with the rather suggestive tags and imagery spread throughout the front, and as he handed over his ID-his ID, not Gol's, as he'd been carrying it when he slipped into this world-he knew he must have had the wrong place. Maybe it didn't exist in this world, or maybe it was located elsewhere, but whatever the case, this wasn't it.<p>

Those thoughts repeated in his head even as he spotted the man behind the counter serving drinks.

Thatch's bar had always been safe for him. More often than not Marco steered clear of it to give their brother his space and not disturb him during work, so Ace knew the risk of him being nagged while there was at a minimum. The bar was quiet save for the music playing overhead, the patrons were civil enough to avoid creating unnecessary mess and disturbances, and the atmosphere relaxing. Ever since the start of high school he'd visit his brother regularly and use it as a chance to vent about whatever was going on with him. Thatch wouldn't serve him until he was legal, but the alcohol wasn't really what he came for, anyway. He came to escape, to either forget his worries or talk about them with someone he trusted, and his brother always seemed to know what to say.

This wasn't Thatch's bar. This was a fucking strip club.

It wasn't hard to tell just how out of place he was, ducking his head uncomfortably as he waded through the crowds, trying not to look towards the scantily-clad dancers strutting about on tables and poles as the blaring music left him feeling lightheaded. He didn't do well in places like those. Hell, he never even went to clubs. The atmosphere did nothing for him, and this was even worse as he tried to fix his eyes to the floor and ignore the hues of blue and pink lights that gave the club a strange glow. With every step his anxiety would peak and his posture would stiffen further and the moment he caught sight of his brother again he made a beeline straight for him and sat firmly on one of the bar stools closest to the redhead, eyes glued to the counter as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. This wasn't good for his health…

"Anything I can get'cha, Buddy?"

Ace jumped at the words, chancing a hesitant glance upward at the man clad in black and white formal attire, looking a bit out of place against the wall of booze backdrop. But beyond the different uniform and setting Thatch was there with his usual sloppy grin, that same stupid hairstyle, and if nothing else, that was his solace. He smiled shakily, wondering if he should really be drinking anymore. He didn't really feel like getting wasted, even if this Thatch didn't know him and would probably allow it. "Just-just water for now, thanks."

The barkeep raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off just as soon, moving to grab a glass and fill it without much question. "You here for the pretty ladies then?"

The youth's nose scrunched up in distaste and he shook his head. But Thatch wasn't looking, and he knew that if he was there to see him specifically it would come off as odd, so biting back his words he smirked. "'Course. Why else?" But the act faltered with the pounding of his head and he pressed his hands to his temples with a shuddering breath. "Fuck, why's it gotta be so loud…?"

Turning back around, Thatch set a glass of ice water before him, a slice of lemon placed thoughtfully on the rim as he eyed the boy. "Clubs tend to be like that, kid. Never been?"

He stiffened, cursing internally and hurrying to sip from the glass, if only to give him a moment's thought. "Y-yeah. Just… not in a while. I don't like the crowds, y'know?"

"It can be a little much at times," Thatch snorted, his eyes falling past Ace towards the back of the room. Curiously Ace followed his sight, frowning as he saw two men in uniform dragging a protesting patron out. Ace made a face. Even with as much of a little shit as he could be, he'd never done anything to get kicked out of a place like that. Well, at least not often… "But ya get used to it after a while."

Ace turned back around and snickered, staring at the pink and blue reflections in his drink. "Yeah I'll bet you do, Thatch."

"How did-"

"Nametag," he cut off, catching his own mistake just as soon as the words left his mouth. He decided not to look up to see what kind of look Thatch was giving him, the grunt of understanding all he needed to know that the man believed him.

Before he could make any further mistakes he heard more than saw the body seating itself next to him, a tired sigh following shortly after. He would have given it no thought had he not heard the voice behind that sigh, a tired, almost monotone sound that had his ears perking up, and he stole a glance from his place beside the man. Having heard it he wasn't too surprised to see the stupid hairstyle attached to said man, but he was a little unnerved to see him in formal dress, removing the tie from around his neck systematically as he nodded to Thatch-a gesture he recognised from his own world. His brother wasn't one to wear suits unless on official business, usually climbing out of them the first chance he got and slipping into something more casual. Ace somehow doubted he'd just finished considering the late hour, so maybe… this Marco was different, after all.

Catching the gesture, Thatch spun around and grabbed a bottle, fixing what Ace could only assume to be the blond's usual as the former slouched forward in his seat, looking more tired than what was the norm. "Comin' through the back again, Marc? Really? You abuse your power a little too freely, you know."

"Oh shut up," he spat, no malice behind the words as he rubbed his forehead and ignored his brother's laughter. "It's easier. How's business?"

"Swell. The same as yesterday, and the day before that, and the-"

"I get it," he sighed, closing his eyes and grabbing the glass set out for him.

"Do you really want to talk about work right now, Brother?" Thatch questioned as he shifted away to grab someone's empty glass from the bartop. "Because I'll talk. I will. But I somehow doubt that's what you wanna hear after a long day."

"Fair point," Marco muttered, raising the glass to his lips.

A short silence fell between them and Ace pressed his lips together. The more he heard the eldest speak, the more his frown set, the strange speech pattern so familiar to him absent in his brother's speech. It may have been minor but was still there, glaringly obvious to someone who'd grown up hearing it, and he couldn't help but feel… out of place.

He wondered what he was doing there. They looked like his family but weren't, and if asked they wouldn't even be able to give his name-

"Ace?"

His eyes widened, head snapping to the side to stare back into the curious blue orbs fixed to his form, posture rigid as he tried to work up a response. Why…?

Thatch's tilted head in show of his curiosity as he set the cleaned glass back in its place and leaned on the bar. "You know this kid?"

"You could say that…" Lingering eyes soon fell away and Ace released a breath. "He's the son of one of our partners-Roger's boy."

Business partners… But Gol mentioned they were part of a rival company, hadn't he? Or had he heard wrong?

As he listened he clenched his fist, recalling his double mentioning something about this-about them meeting earlier in the day. After a moment of composure he smiled, shifting to face him. "Yeah. Marco, right? Newgate's heir?" The blond's eyes narrowed on him, and he tried to ignore it by spinning back around to the bartender. "Second son, yeah?"

Thatch glanced toward his brother confusedly with a hesitant nod. "...Yeah. You here to see us, kid?"

Ace snorted. "'Course not. I just decided to go out tonight and happened to notice a familiar face." But he knew he was beginning to test his luck with both of them there, and he rather not do the same thing that jackass Gol did to him by messing everything up. So he wasted no time in rising from his seat, slowly shuffling back away from the bar. "Anyway, it's getting late so I better head out. Early day tomorrow, y'know?"

Thatch frowned. "You just got here."

Shit. He did. "Yeah, well…" He swallowed, and without another word turned around and left, feeling a hundred times more awkward that he'd expected. As he started home he realised that might have done more harm than good…

Fuck.

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><p>The mirror's biggest flaw aside from the soul-shattering knowledge that accidentally falling through it would trap you in a world not your own was that you could never really see your own reflection. No, it was always someone else-someone who looked and sounded like yourself but was so very different.<p>

One wouldn't notice it then, however, seeing them both clothed just the same. Ace found it funny that despite every other difference between their lives their closets looked vaguely identical, save for the extra section of Gol's wardrobe where he stashed his work clothes.

"Would you stop bloody fussing already?" his double asked with a roll of his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in clear agitation. "Never realised how ridiculous I could be, fuck…"

Ace rolled his eyes, shoving his wallet into his pants pocket as he started away from the mirror. "Fucking shut up for once, Gol."

"Make me."

He snickered. "I would but that would end in my smashing the mirror, and I rather not destroy my only chance of returning home."

After a moment of silence, Gol heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I feel like I'm turning into you…"

"We're technically-"

"Shut up. Smartass remarks are my department." Ace turned back to frown at him, and it took no more than a short glance-over to see that his first night in the other world had taken its toll on him. "How do you stand being alone here? This place is boring as shit, and all the walls are white… Feels like I'm trapped in a hospital."

"Have you always been this melodramatic?"

"Have you?"

He paused at that, eyes raised to the ceiling as he thought. "...Yeah, pretty much." Both went silent and Ace shook his head free of that thought as he headed to the door. "There are extra classes today buy skip 'em; they're not mandatory."

Gol snorted, arms crossed. "Isn't that what you were fighting with Marco about?"

"Otherwise," he continued, frowning back at him, "there shouldn't be anything you need to do. So just stay inside and try not to ruin my life, yeah?"

With a nod and salute Gol sent him off and he stepped outside, following the instructions he received to a bus stop near his house and sitting on the bench in silent waiting. He leaned into the back, staring tiredly up at the sky with a shuddering breath. The only thing he'd been told about his little day out was that he was supposed to show Luffy around. The kid had just moved there and was, well, apparently pretty fucking lost. Lu could be clueless at times, so it wasn't all that hard to believe… He just wondered how to act around the brat. They weren't supposed to know one another in that world so, like yesterday, this would… be an interesting obstacle to overcome. Fortunately Luffy wasn't as attentive as his brothers. Well, at least his Luffy wasn't...

Covering his face with his hands he let out a long, annoyed groan in preparation for the headache he just knew was soon to follow-and jumped when he heard a laugh. He sat up straight, eyes wide as he spotted a short boy wearing a straw hat, and paled when the kid waved at him.

"Ace!" he called out, closing the distance between them.

And as Luffy lowered himself onto the seat beside his, he came to the horrifying realisation that this world was different from his own-that even Thatch's bar was nothing like what he'd known. He didn't know his way around.

Slouching, he groaned again, giving himself a moment of hopelessness before forcing a shaky smile onto his face to greet the boy. "Hey, Lu…"

* * *

><p><strong>Aaand there you go! Next chapter is going be told from both of their perspectives, so it'll probably be a bit longer than the rest have been, and more eventful. But for now this is all, so I hope you enjoyed.<strong>

**Adieu~**


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